Familial Correlations
by Fluffy Tranquil
Summary: The title explains it all. ;D RXR! NO INCEST!
1. Prologue

_You acted as if you weren't moved by her, or even effected at all. She was your damn sister. Your fucking sister. And you let it happen. Nothing you say can change what happened. What's done is done, and there's no turning back._

_But she wanted it, too. You can't just blame yourself for all of this. She knew. Not from the start, of course, but she knew, and that's all that mattered…_


	2. Chapter 1

"Young Folks" ~ Peter Bjorn & John. 

_If I told you things I did before_

_Told you how I used to be_

_Would you go along with someone like me?_

_If you knew my story word for word_

_Had all of my history_

_Would you go along with someone like me?_

_I did before and had my share_

_It didn't lead nowhere_

_I would go along with someone like you_

_It doesn't matter what you did_

_Who you were hanging with_

_We could stick around and see this night through_

_And we don't care about the young folks_

_Talking about the young style_

_And we don't care about the old folks_

_Talking about the old style too_

_And we don't care about their own faults_

_Talking about our own style_

_All we care about is talking_

_Talking only me and you_

_Usually when things have gone this far_

_People tend to disappear_

_No one will surprise me unless you do_

_I can tell there's something going on_

_Hours seems to disappear_

_Everyone is leaving, I'm still with you_

_It doesn't matter what we do_

_Where we are going to_

_We can stick around and see this night through_

_And we don't care about the young folks_

_Talking about the young style_

_And we don't care about the old folks_

_Talking about the old style too_

_And we don't care about their own faults_

_Talking about our own style_

_All we care about is talking_

_Talking only me and you_

_And we don't care about the young folks_

_Talking about the young style_

_And we don't care about the old folks_

_Talking about the old style too_

_And we don't care about their own faults_

_Talking about our own style_

_All we care about is talking_

_Talking only me and you_

_Talking only me and you_

_Talking only me and you_

_Talking only me and you_

* * *

Clare turned the knob on the radio. She had never heard one of Bullfrog's shows, and was always curious... Okay, she never stayed up until one in the morning for something like this, but she _did_ want to know a little more about Eli's family. Even if it meant getting to know each individual member. Finally, she found station number 92, and heard Mr. Goldsworthy's voice ringing proudly through the speaker. It was a little too loud, so she had to turn it down before her parents woke up. She ended up turning the _station_ instead. She quickly turned the volume down to 2, and turned it back to the previous station.

From how it sounded, he was answering calls from viewers and sharing his own opinions on the subject. His current viewer was talking about an affair... Oh joy, a subject she did not need to be hearing about... Especially when her parents were in the midst of a divorce.

She was about to turn the radio off, but Bullfrog began to talk and she wanted to hear his response. "Yeah, I once had an affair with a Christian bitch." He said sarcastically. "She was real sexy." Seriously, who would trash-talk someone over the radio? Or share their personal business? "...Gave me my only son, but my wife forgave me for it. Forgive and forget I always say, right?"

"Right you are, right you are."

"Thanks for calling in, Rob. That's it for our show. I'll see you next time, Toronto." Clare quickly turned the radio off. Eli's dad _cheated_? ...But more importantly, Eli's mom was not actually his real mother? She wondered if Eli knew about this. She climbed into bed, pondering on whether or not she should ask Eli about this...

"Why, dad, why?" Eli questioned. Why did his dad have to share _that_ over the radio. Of course _he_ knew, but that didn't mean that all of Toronto needed to know too. Hopefully Clare wasn't watching. He'd asked her not to ever listen to his father's show. He knew that she wouldn't like the majority of what he talked about on the show, and something would offend her... The only question: would she be awake now? It was nearly one-thirty, and she was probably sleeping, but he could always leave her a message. Just as he was about to dial her number, his phone rang. Just the person he wanted to talk to: Clare.

"Clare, what are you still doing up?"

"...Couldn't sleep. Can you come over?"

"Wouldn't your parents not like that?"

"Please." She was begging now.

"I'm on my way..."

"Thank-you."

He put his shoes on, climbed out his window, and started up Morty.


End file.
